


(It Feels Better) Coming Down

by whintersoldiers



Series: It Feels Better [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Affectionate Choking?, Body Worship, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Mild-ish Choking, Mostly porn, Sass, Sex, Smut, Soft Envious King Bucky Barnes, Sprinkles of Angst and Fluff, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whintersoldiers/pseuds/whintersoldiers
Summary: Bucky Barnes gets a chance to come clean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second and final installment to a series, so you need to read the first part to understand what's going on. :)

_“Come on, Y/N, you should be getting inside. It’s late.”_

Bucky says, looking at you meaningfully. You give a long, heaving sigh and smile apologetically at Matt who looks rather annoyed that he hadn’t gotten kissed. He outstretches his thumb and pinky, and raises them to his ear, in the universal sign for _‘Call me.’_ You give a tight lipped smile.

_As if._

Bucky’s hand rests at the juncture between your lower back and your ass as he guides you back into the building, and it takes all of your effort not to shiver. The silk of your dress is rather thin, and you can feel the grooves in the metal of his hand.

_Bastard just had to use that arm…_

The elevator ride to your room is quiet, and filled with… something. It's almost abnormally full with people, the cramped space loud from chatter and glee. You and Bucky settle all the way at the back. It isn’t awkward, not really, but you force yourself to stare at the elevator doors, and the elevator doors _only,_ during the entirety of the ride anyway. His hand is still at you back, the metal thumb now stroking the skin of your hip through your dress and you have to subdue a moan that threatens to make it’s way up your throat. 

The two of you barely make it to your room before you snap at him.

“Thanks for the escort, Barnes. Didn’t know I was so in-fucking-competent that I couldn’t find my way to my own room, but I appreciate the gesture. Truly.” You kick off your heels as you speak, sinking a good five inches lower. You refuse to tilt your face up to Bucky, only glaring up at him through your lashes like a petulant child. Three of his freshly-polished, gleaming fingers come up to rest at the bridge of his nose in frustration, as he sighs and shuts his eyes.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He asks, his voice tired. You raise an eyebrow.

“What am _I_ doing? I _would_ be going to bed right about now, but you’ve clearly got something swirling up there.” You say, jutting your chin towards his forehead, indicating to his brain. “So, c’mon old man, spit it out.”

“Y/N…” He warns. You allow a smirk and cross your arms, shrugging coyly. “Why did you go out with him tonight?”

_Oh, hell no._

“Excuse me?!” You scoff, your eyebrows coming to crease together. “I was just trying to have a good, fun night in a really long time and you just—”

“Don’t lie,” He interrupts. You narrow your eyes. “You’re clearly trying to prove something.”

“Is that right, solider?” You ask, your hands coming to settle at your waist sassily. His eyes drop briefly to the swell of your hips before it returns to your face. “Indulge me, then. What exactly am I trying to prove?”

“Clearly, you’re trying to show me— or the compound, whatever—  that you’re fine. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to do that. It’s okay to be hurt, Y/N.” He says, his voice and expression softening simultaneously. You practically fume with rage.

“ _That’s_ rich, especially coming from you.” You hiss. He looks hurt, and it causes you to pause but you couldn’t take it back. No holding back now. “Why does it matter to you anyway? You don’t like me, remember? Or is it just your ‘big brother’ complex coming into play? Well, news flash: I’m fine. You can rest easy tonight.”

“Jesus, what is with you?! If you’re fine why do you keep bringing up what I said more than a week ago?” He cries, hands flying up in frustration. This causes you to snap your mouth shut, because _damn it,_ he had a point. “Do you not hear me? I’m telling you to stop making these impulsive decisions just because you’re upset. That Matt guy is trouble.”

“You ever consider the fact that trouble might be what I want?”

“I— _What?_ ”

“Maybe I don’t want anything more than one night with a guy— with Matt. I was well on my way before you so rudely interrupted me,” You bluff. Bucky looks aghast at the thought, and for a moment you let your lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk. That is, until Bucky’s expression begins to mirror yours. The smile melts off of your face.

“I don’t think that’s what you want,”

“Oh, because you know so well what I want? What I need?”

“What you _need…_ ” He says, closing the distance between you two until your chests are touching. “Is me.” You barely have time to respond, because suddenly his mouth is on your with a fervor you’ve never witnessed in your time alive on earth.

Bucky Barnes is a force of nature, so it’s not a surprise his kisses are nothing short of electromagnetic. The messy lattice of your lips pulse with the attraction of an electric charge. His mouth is assertive, yet somehow soft, and the feeling of it caressing your own has you arching your chest up in offering to him, as if he can draw your soul to him by laving his tongue over your lips. This is _so_ much better than you could have ever imagined.

His metal hand returns without your knowledge to it’s rightful place on your hip, the plates of his arm re-arranging with soft clicks as he massages deep, sensual semicircles into the salmon-colored satin. You grin when you feel his pec jump as you rake your nails over his chest through the comfortable cotton of his tee. He swoops away to catch his breath, and you have to suppress a whimper.

You barely have time to hide a smile as he pulls you back in with the flesh hand that’s fisted in your locks, tugging gently at your roots to draw your attention back to his lips. And, what a reminder it was. His tongue snakes it’s way between your lips and greets your own with a passionate hello. He tastes clean; the smell of aftershave and something distinctly heavy and woodsy that can only be described as Bucky filling up your senses.

The kiss is atomic.

But, you return to planet earth when he pulls away. He doesn’t move away entirely, his lips still a miniscule distance from yours. His heavy breaths brush over your face like a gentle reminder of the past, and a whisper of what was to come. You almost get side-tracked again, because he was just so goddamn pretty. Merlot lips wet and kiss-swollen, and a wisp of stormy cobalt in his eyes reminding you that his eyes not in fact black. He stares at you like he’s deciding whether to devastate you with everything he has or lay you to waste with teasing strokes of tongue and not a thing more.

You shove him back quickly, scrambling to smooth down your hair and catch your breath.

“What the hell was that?!” You practically screech. He blinks down at you innocently, eyes wide.

“I kissed you,” He supplies. You would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t so distraught.

“I know, genius, I was there.” You say. “ _Why?_ ” He looks genuinely guilty, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his head sheepishly.

“I— I don’t know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I’ll go.” He says, shoving a thumb behind his shoulder towards the exit. You squint at him suspiciously, grabbing his wrist quickly before he can flee.

“Oh no, mister. You do not have the right to just turn my world upside down by literally kissing me breathless, only to leave. You owe me an explanation.” You make sure you sound authoritative, and you think you’ve failed when you notice a smile creeping up Bucky’s face. You realize subsequently why he’s smiling, rolling your eyes as you mutter ‘cocky bastard.’

“I wanted to,” He says lamely. You give him an unamused glance. “Look, I might’ve… lied last week when I said that I didn’t see you… in that way.” Your throat goes dry.

“Why?” You repeat, for what seems like the thousandth time.

“You’re you.” He says. You must’ve looked offended by his comment, because he looks apologetic right away. “I just mean that… you’re young. The youngest one here, ‘sides Wanda. And, you’re sweet and bright, and the last thing you need is a fella like me weighing ya down. I’m not what you want.”

“How about you let me decide what I want?”

“That’s not—” He stops to sigh. “I ain’t no boyfriend material, kitten.” You take a deep breath and take a step back.

“That’s fine, Bucky.” You say, shrugging helplessly. He smiles at your use of his name, it had been a little while. “You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions. So am I, and I can respect that. If you don’t think I’m adequate enough to handle your baggage, I get it—”

“What? I ain’t never said that!”

“You don’t have to. I’ve lived with you for over a year, and I’ve come to know a whole damn lot about you. I’ve fallen in love with you despite it all— _because_ of it all. I’ve got my share of baggage too, so it’s not like you’d be ruining me either. Sorry, Buck. Your sugarcoating is bullshit. You can just say that you don’t like me, and that kiss was an impulse.”

“See, sweetheart, now you’re just puttin’ words in my mouth.”

“Well, they’re the truth. You just don’t see me romantically and that kiss was one of pity. I’m not going to think otherwise until you make it perfectly clear that you— _Mmm!”_

He certainly had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he?

Because once again, his lips were on yours, teeth nipping the flesh of your lower lip as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. He pulls away only when you lay a hand on his chest to let him know you can’t breathe.

“You’re breathtakin’, and I love ya, but you ought to learn to keep those pretty lips of yours shut and _listen_.” He says, grinning. You stare up at him with disbelief, lips parted and eyes cloudy.

“You love me?” You whisper incredulously, searching his eyes for any sign of regret. There wasn’t any.

“I love you,” He confirms, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. He swallows thickly.

“I—” You frowned, taking your time to formulate your question. He could tell you were having a bit of a hard time believing him, and it pained him to know that he’d hurt you enough for you to question his words. “Then, why did you say that you didn’t?”

“I thought that I would be ruining you,. I see now it was wrong of me t’just assume that you couldn’t handle what i’m offerin’. Couldn’t ruin you if I tried.” He supplies, and you scrunch your nose up as he kisses every inch of your face in quick succession.

“What?” He asks, noticing your expression.

“You’re cute,” You explain, a small smile passing your face. “I’m almost having trouble believing you.” He stares at you like he does when he’s done something that has upset you: eyebrows pinched together and eyes big. Guilty. Almost hurt.

“C’mere,” He says taking your hand and leading you to the the large full-length mirror in your room and depositing you in front of your reflection. He takes a wide-legged stance behind you with one arm settled firmly on your stomach and the other hand tickling your neck as he pushes your hair to one side. You almost whimper, eyes sliding shut, when he leans over to plant a firm kiss to the side of your jaw, miles of taut muscle and supple skin pressing up against your backside as a result.

“What do you see?”

“Hmm…” You pretend to take a moment to think. “HYDRA’s worst nightmare in baby pink velvet.” He chuckles, fingers teasing at your collarbones he watched your reflections in the mirror.

“You’re funny,” He whispers into your ear, and yup, that low, sultry voice was one-hundred-percent doing it for you.

“Funny _looking,_ ” You correct with a self-deprecating laugh. Bucky looks displeased with your answer, nipping the tender skin of your neck in retribution. You gasp.

“Hey, none o’that,” He urges, expression petulant like a child that had been deprived of something he had wanted. “You’re… you’re… I wish there was a word in this god-forsaken language to describe what ya are. Exquisite. _Ethereal_.” You laugh lightly, although not unkindly, secretly all-too-pleased with his words. Like with everything you give him, you know he’s been paying attention to the ‘Words of The Day’ calendar he’d received earlier in the year. He buries his face into your neck, almost like he’s embarrassed and nuzzles the skin softly. Your giggles die down and you shiver.

“Alright, big boy, don’t hurt yourself,” You tease, twirling on your feet and capturing his lips with your own. He makes a sound of surprise that transforms into something pleased and satisfied when you snake your fingers into the long strands of hair at the back of his head, soft like dark cashmere.

His tongue darts out and slithers along your lower lip like a starved man’s first taste of water. You clutch his hair tighter but he pulls away too quickly, and you whimper with discontent. He smiles.

“I love your lips,” He whispers, sharing your personal space with you. “So pouty and— and _sweet._ ” He grazes a finger along your kiss-swollen lips, seemingly mesmerized by the lines and the color. You can’t help but look away, the action so simple but so affectionate. This snaps him out of his reverie and he settles firm hands on your waist again before spinning you to face the mirror.

“You’ve got this little spot underneath your ear, and I swear, it’s like _butter._ So soft— every goddamn inch of ya.” He says, leaning over to suckle at the spot gently, as if to prove his point. You try not to gasp, but seriously, who has this kind of charisma after 70 years? Ridiculous.

His hands run along your ribs, right underneath your cleavage, and he looks up at your reflection, silently waiting for your approval. You swallow and nod, a sigh escaping your lips as his hands come to cup at your breasts, the weight of them heavy and warm on his hands. He almost growls.

“These tits are something else,” He purrs ardently, fingers tracing along the underside of their shape. “You’re always walkin’ around in some outrageous getup, like this— this dress,” He plucks at the soft blush colored velvet. “Jesus, when you said that you were wearin’ this dress for someone ‘sides yourself, I almost lost it. I just _know_ that friggin’ asshole recruit was practically undressing you the entire night.”

“Why don’t you?” You suggest, if a little breathily. His eyes shoot up to your reflection’s.

“Yeah?” He asks, his breathing rough and voice low. You blink, chest heaving.

“Yeah.”

His hands slide along your waist, down to your thighs becauses he loves torturing you, fingertips teasing at the hem. You give an impatient wiggle of your hips, and he chuckles, easing the fabric tantalizingly slowly over your body. He sucks in a deeper breath at every new inch of skin bared to him. His hands come to rest at your hips once the restricting thing is off your body, and for a minute, he just stares at your reflection. He breathes through his mouth, and his possessive grip becomes tighter. The cool metal of his hand bites delectably into your waist while his right hand warms your skin further.

You don’t have half the willingness to wait as he does, and you’re nothing if not demanding, so you reach behind you to unclasp the pretty silken bra you had donned for the night. He looks surprised by your boldness, but makes no move to stop you, watching the cups fall away. His mouth gapes open a little wider.

“ _Jesus,_ ” He hisses, when his fingers brush over your pebbled nipples. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he circles and tweaks at the buds, your head falling behind to rest on his shoulders. “Could never help myself from imagining what you’d look like, naked to me like this, when you’re paradin’ around the tower in all your glory. S’pose I don’t gotta imagine no more.” He kneads at the mounds, the action raising goosebumps all along your arms, and the callouses on his fingertips chafing just right against your nipples.

“Bucky… _James,_ I—” You start, but the rest of the sentence is lost in your tongue as he tugs and pinches, which you suppose is good, because you had no idea where you were going to go with that request anyway. Not when his hands were doing all _that._

“What is it, sweetheart?” He coos into your ear, watching the echo of your body in writhe in the mirror. He finally lets up, and brings your arms up behind you to lace around his neck for leverage. His wandering hands return to their exploration of your body, palms gliding along your collarbones, over your breasts, and smoothing down your stomach. He massages the flesh there, knuckles grazing against the scalloped edge of your panties.

You almost whine, because all he’s done is kiss and caress you, and you know that you’ve soaked through the expensive french fabric of your lingerie. And Bucky, the incorrigible asshole that he is, refuses to do anything about the fact that you’re dripping for him, despite the fact that you can feel the thick line of his cock, hot and bulging, against your ass. You make a squirming and moaning fuss until he finally indulges you. You grin like the cat that got the cream, feeling his hand dive into your underwear, into the slippery mess you’ve made of yourself.

He snarls when he feels how wet you are, and you sigh at the irony of it all, because _that_ sound from him only soaks his hand further. He explores, teasing along your labia first, before seeking out your clit. He knows he’s successful when your hips fly off of his groin, and you cry out his name.

“There ya are,” He mumbles into your ear, experimenting with half-crescents around the nub. His voice is sweet, liquid, and charred with smoke and you want to ride him until he sees stars but that would mean moving those blessed fingers out of you, and you know that you don’t have that kind of willpower. When he begins to strum directly at your clit, your eyes clench shut as your head falls back against him. You bury your face in his neck, his warm-clean scent filling your senses as you moan shamelessly.

“No, baby, _no,_ ” He chides, stopping the heavenly friction abruptly. You almost sob. “You gotta watch. Look at how pretty you are when you’re ridin’ my fingers like that.” You gasp, and turn back to your mirror selves, desperate to come around his fingers. You don’t know if you can do as he wants, because the simple thought of watching yourself like _that_ makes you apprehensive. But, you try for him, and Bucky sees it. He leisurely starts moving his fingers again, one running low to your entrance. He muscles in a lone finger, and you accept him graciously, clenching around the digit with fervor. He groans lowly, the pressure making his dick twitch against your lower back.

His metal hand, the one anchoring your back to his front, rises from your wriggling stomach to your collarbone to rest there. You draw in a sharp breath, the silver appendage almost wrapping around your neck. Bucky observes your reaction and slowly slides his hand further up, listening to the vibranium plates click and recalibrate as his grip tightens. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes roll back into your head. You’re too lost in the feeling to notice, but he grins and stores the information away for future reference.

Your clit sizzles with the friction of Bucky’s fingers, and your legs buckle as you struggle to hold yourself up. He laughs darkly, the noise all molten sugar. He fingers press more insistently against your nerves, and you moan like a singing angel— so saccharine-sweet that Bucky knows his life will never know peace unless he forces them out of you again. His dick, bobbing with interest, seems to agree. He lets his fingers paint a final abstract spectacle against your silken walls, the whines emanating from you never-ending and high-pitched, before he drags his fingers out of you with a rough swipe against your clit.

You’re panting, drooping against his brawny-shoulders, and subsequently whining because he hadn’t let you come. You make a dissatisfied noise, and try to turn and face him, demanding an explanation.

“I need to feel this pussy clench around my cock,” He breathes into your ear, and you shudder, the suggestion creating a few choice images in your head. He turns you to face him, lifting you in the air. You yelp and wrap your legs around him, hoping to re-possess some feeling of control. He leads you to the wall across from your mirror, and parks you in front of the it, ignoring the perfectly good bed in his path.

He does that stupidly-sexy one handed yank at the back of his neck, the soft cotton of the tee falling away with one fell-swoop. He shucks himself of the rest of his clothes, and you take a moment to admire all of him. A mish-mash of sun-bronzed skin bares itself to you, and you have to bite an urge to smile, the shameless appreciation probably evident on your face. The metal arm whirs softly, each lambent plate demanding attention. His stomach flexes against your fingers as you reach out to touch, his face dropping so he can follow the trek of your fingers, tracing each gilded contour on his chest down up to the pale, marred scars connecting his shoulder to his arm, and then back down to the dark forest of hair above his cock. Your tongue flashes out unconsciously.

“Alright, you little vixen, show’s over,” He says, voice attempting to sound what you assume is authoritative, but the pleased smile on his face gives him away.

“Mmm, as long as I get another one later.”

“That’s a promise, I can keep.” He assures, hands reaching towards the backs of your thighs to lift you up. You’re confident in his grip now, legs snaking around his middle easily. He backs you up against the wall, pressing your weight against it so he can bring one to fist in your hair as he slots your lips back together, tongue coming to greet you again.

His metal hands comes to grip at his cock, lining himself up with your waiting heat. He glides the leaking head, hot and red, along your folds, your mouth falling open as it kisses your clit. Your hips buck up into the feeling, desperate to feel him again, groaning disappointedly when he moves his length away.

“Bucky, if you’re not balls deep inside me in the next ten seconds, I swear…” You don’t get a chance to finish, as he laughs amusedly— finally, after so long— and slides all the way home, burying himself into your welcoming pussy.

For a moment, he just stands, chest heaving and his breathing shallow as your walls flutter to accommodate the sheer size of him. He curses in Russian, each syllable amplified as he pants it into your ear. One hand rises from your thigh to the wall next to your head, leveraging himself there, as he begins to rock himself into you. It’s a easy bump and grind, and you love him— you do— but you’ve been on edge so long that you dig your nails into his shoulders and give a particularly hard clench of your pussy, squeezing tightly around his pulsing cock.

“ _God, Y/N,_ ” He chokes out, hips stuttering as his hands digs into the wall. You grin slyly.

“Bucky, I promise I will let you do the caveman thing and let you keep me in your bed for the entirety of the next week. We will do the slow thing, I swear. I want to do that with you— _so_ bad. But, right now, I need you to fuck me so hard into the next galaxy so that I see stars.” You whisper into his ear, doing that tight clench thing again. He lets out a strangled moan, eyes rolling back into his head. “That’s an order, Sargent.” He curses again.

“Copy that.”

He slowly pulls out, before slamming in with a force you’ve never felt before. You gasp, hands pawing helplessly at his shoulders, as your hips undulate to meet his thrust for thrust. You meet your own eyes in the reflection of yourselves in the mirror. Bucky’s head is buried in your neck, licking along your collarbones, as his hips jolt with the power of a super soldier. You look thoroughly fucked, and blissed out, and your decide Bucky’s nude body draped over yours isn’t a bad accessory.

 _Awfully empty for such a gorgeous back_ , you muse to yourself, watching the muscles around his scapula contort and release as he moves. Deciding it’s your new favorite canvas, you drag your fingers down the skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Bucky groans, hips starting to fuck into you faster, clearly spurred on by your actions.

You squeeze more insistently, and he takes a shaky breath, as your whimpers and squeals of pleasure fill his ears. You can tell he’s close, each press punctuated and coming in faster successions. Metal fingers return to your throat, and you gasp with surprise and happiness. You have half a mind to wonder how he knows, but then you’re feeling the air just barely crawl along your throat, the oxygen becoming a tiny bit thicker and harder to swallow.

You love it.

And, then, he’s whispering utter filth into your ear: calls you his darling, tells you how good you feel, how wet you are, and how he has no idea why he deprived himself of this for so long. You don’t even realize you’re screaming until he smothers his lips over yours, and swallows down your cries. Then, comes one particularly well-timed upshot of his hips, and you’re gone.

You’re falling, your cunt seizing helplessly around his cock, a guttural groan leaving him as he empties himself inside of you, the feeling drawing out your orgasm for longer than you’ve ever came. You shake, arms wrapping around his neck, as you lean in to kiss him again. He grins, and accepts you happily.

You’re coming down, but somehow you’re still floating on air.

“I remember you saying something about not leaving my bed for a week?” He inquires curiously, and you smile despite yourself. You peck his lips quickly.

“I believe I did.”

* * *

Bucky wakes to an empty bed. A small panic runs through him at the absence of your body next to his, and he reaches over in his small hysteria, relaxing slightly when he find the other side of his bed warm and the sheets wrinkled.

So it wasn’t a dream.

He breathes a sigh of relief, sagging back into into the pillows, a cocky smirk on his face as he reminisces about the amount of times he got you to say his name— whether it was in a pleasure-induced scream of pleasure, or a quiet little breathy outcry of his name spilling from your lips like a declaration of love. His morning wood lurches as he remembers the way you’d sunk to the floor after you’d discovered his superhuman regeneration abilities, the hot warmth of your mouth engulfing him in a kind of bliss he’d only dreamed of before.

_Your mouth…_

His thoughts are interrupted by an uncomfortable giggle from the living room. It’s from you.

He knows it’s not a real laugh, because even before he had acknowledged his feelings for you, he had fallen in love with your laugh. The carefree sound, so near-and-dear to him. To hear it forced out of you like that made him wrinkle his eyebrows together and set out in search of the offender who had made you laugh like that.

His eyes widen in surprise as he sees you in the hallway, your toiletries in one hand, and the other grasping your elbow in an obvious display of discomfort. You’re avoiding the gaze of the person in front of you, and Bucky can’t see who it is, their back facing Bucky.

“So, you know, you never got to give me that kiss last night,” Bucky hears the person suggest, their voice pitched low in a clear (and sad) attempt to be sexy. It makes Bucky scoff on the outside, but his blood boil on the inside. Even though you had swallowed him down like a five-course meal not even 6 hours ago, some little insecure part of him doesn’t like the idea of you hanging around that stupid, cocksure recruit. When he had first heard that you were going on a date with him, he had almost leapt over to you, and begged you to cancel.

Bucky really hates Matt.

Your eyes flicker up to Bucky, distressed gaze changing to a soft, doting one when you see his figure in looming in the shadows. You turn back to Matt, opening your mouth to answer, but Bucky’s moving on his feet before you can say anything. He shucks the shirt he’d put on, flinging it to the corner of the hallway so Mat won’t see, before joining Matt’s view of you, a hand easily snaking around you to rest more on your ass than anything else.

You fight to keep a smile off your face. Your efforts are futile when he envelopes his warm mouth with yours, his tongue insistent upon the seam of your lips, snaking it’s way between your teeth to meet your tongue. You moan in an exaggerated fashion, and Bucky smirks against your mouth.

“ _Baby,_ ” Bucky drawls as he pulls away, completely disregarding Matt. “It’s cold. And early. You can’t leave me all alone in bed just yet.” You try your best not to laugh, watching Matt’s eyebrows hike themselves higher and higher on his forehead.

“Buck,” You say, placing your unoccupied hand onto his bare chest, almost placatingly. He puffs his chest out in typical alpha male fashion, and you roll your eyes.

“Have you met my friend here?” You inquire. Bucky makes a show of finally pretending to notice Matt, and you don’t notice, but his gaze is threatening.

“Mark, right?” He asks, as you huff out an unattractive snort. Bucky squeezes your hip in warning, telling you not to drop the act, and reaches out with his other hand to shake Matt’s hand. You know the little shit is going to break everything from Matt’s fingers to wrist bones. It’s evident he’s almost fractured his hand when Matt’s face crumbles, and you bump your hip into Bucky’s to make him stop.

“Actually, it’s—” He begins to answer, when his phone begins to ring. He answers without bothering to check the caller ID.

“MATT!” The voice on the other end of the phone call cries. “Where did you go?! I am not going to be just a one night stand—” His eyes widen as he quickly fumbles with his phone and ends the call. It’s your turn to be surprised, and Bucky is trying his best to not to burst into laughter.

“Sounds like she’s the one who could use a kiss,” You suggest, and Matt stares guiltily between you and Bucky, your bodies wrapped around each other. Bucky strokes the juncture of your hip with his fingers possessively, and raises his eyebrows.

“I’ll just—” Matt clears his throat. “Go.”

“I think that would be best,” Bucky adds cockily, crossing his arms, the action making his arms look even more Herculean than normal. You watch Matt’s figure recede quickly, making a mental note to tell Tony about the whole escapade. You laugh as your turn to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him, your toiletries still hanging from your left hand. You knew he wasn't kidding when he planned to keep you in his room. 

“You’re an adorable jealous dork,” You sing-song, nuzzling his nose affectionately. He frowns.

“I ain’t jealous,” He says, indignantly, sniffing haughtily.

“But, you’re _my_ adorable jealous dork.” You soothe, pressing a kiss to the dimple in his chin. His lips curve into a smile.

“Now, there’s a compromise I can agree with.”

**Author's Note:**

> Very sorry about the change in tense from the first part to the second, lol. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine! Unbeta'd. 
> 
> Original creation date: November/December 2016.


End file.
